The Orchid Journal

Here are some photos I took at the Missouri Botanical Garden's Orchid show this past Spring. I came across the folder again and decided dark December was a good time to be reminded of flowers. The orange ones are "Laelia" orchids

We, formed in the mind of HIM and breathed into Time's kazoo, hurtle forth perplexed, with a small grape salad in each hand. We think we lack tickings of clocks, grand hellos or rambling thoughts we think we lack calendar photos or celebrations of first cries we think, ...this one had a good run ...that one didn't have a chance ...the other one should not have been granted an audience Shadows writhe along the walls assured we are only a physical breach, a tipsy toddle, the rotting of chromosomes Hollows sound with mule brays basking in their owlish delight we are only rounds of a checkers game stalked by crowned enemy kings in our Wake Few Lights blazon and blink down a path walked by countless fogs here we are, immortals Some journey two pages and depart to evergreen trees, crisp ocean breeze, a bubbling of friendly rejoices and kisses Some wander four chapters and depart to putrid nightmares, clogged in a room of knives obscured, no whimper of sympathy. But ALL walk and walk...

Reading blogs of friends has made me realize, it has been THREE MONTHS since the last time I have written on my own blog! I started this blog originally so that I would have a place to practice writing often, at least to force myself to write 'in public' and hone my skills, but here I am, letting three entire months go by and not a single word written. Unacceptable! I have, in fact, been writing these past few months. Most of my writing has been in my journals or in completing the exercises in an amazing workbook called "The Creative Call: an Artists response to the Way of the Spirit." (Seriously, if you are an artist, writer, creative at all, I highly recommend this book! HIGHLY! I have never gone through a workbook and been so incredibly inspired and equipped as I have with this book. If you are stuck in your creative endeavors, curious as to how the gifts God has given you play into the call on your life, GET THIS BOOK AND DO IT! If you have no money to buy...

There was once a small frog who loved a prince, a prince with a bearing of a lion, a king. This frog, she loved with a love unrequited, for the prince was blind to her round, glossy eyes, webbed feet and wide, happy mouth. At night by the fountain, the prince often reclined on the edge to gaze at the stars. The frog would sit on the lily pad near her lover's head and croak sweet nothings into the air. Never once did the lion prince turn his eyes from the stars to search the water for the sound of the frog. It was just a frog singing its usual song, after all. One night, the frog dared to leap to the ledge of the fountain where the prince's hand rested. She placed one wet webbed foot on his hand hoping to gain his attention. He jumped at her clammy touch, and when he looked down to see a slimy frog on his hand, he shook her off, sending her sailing through the air to land with a splash into the cool fountain. For two weeks, the frog lay submerged under the water, her eyes ...

I forgot how much I like the way clay feels in my hands. In elementary school, I often used air drying Mexican clay. At first, always the deep red clay- I made a dinosaur head for a project once in forth grade, adding real grasses glued to the inside of its mouth after the clay dried. My mom had coached me on how to work the clay to get it to match the shapes I saw in the photo of the dinosaur. I kept the project for years. I may still have it in storage along with the rest of my belongings far away in Tucson. In fifth or sixth grade, I came across this interesting clay that actually hardened IN water! After forming a tiny little teapot, complete with detachable lid, I placed the piece in a tub of water and after the subscribed time, took it out. I was pleased and fascinated by how hard the clay had become. I know for sure I still have that piece...in my storage unit along with the rest of my life. It was before high school, but for sure by 10th grade that I decided the red cla...

There was once a king with 10 daughters. Each daughter, from the first to the last, was beautiful in body and spirit, well-educated and talented. Some played sports, some danced, sang or played instruments. A few of the daughters enjoyed cooking or gardening. Like all people, the daughters had flaws, but they were good-tempered and willing to learn and grow. One day, the King decided to find husbands for his goodly daughters, for they had a desire to be married, but would only marry princely men of whom their father approved. The King sent out messages throughout all the world to the princes of noble character. Presently, three princes arrived. The King happily paired each one with one of his daughters and sent them back to their kingdoms in joy. There were still seven daughters unaccounted for, though. They waited and waited. After a while, the King decided to send out another invitation, inviting the noble princes of nearby kingdoms to choose a bride. This time no one came e...

Photo taken at Shaw Nature Reserve, Missouri, 2010 by the author As I walked across the grocery store parking lot after work today, I looked contentedly up to the blue sky filled with enormous white clouds. I love the clouds in the midwest. I love that it RAINS here and that even if it doesn't rain, there can be days with massive meandering clouds slowly making their way across the heavens. In the evenings, these clouds are lit from behind by a pink and purple sunset filtered through golden sunlight. Rippling clouds are blazoned by a fiery red in the sun's full morning fury. Every place I have lived has its own unique beauty and I appreciated the East Coast, South West, South East, but there is something about the midwest that resonates with me the most. Since moving to St. Louis, I have often looked back at living in Tucson with a sense of haziness and distaste, like I simultaneously feel as if I had never really lived there (it was all an uncomfortable dream that I...

You keep track of all my sorrows. You have collected all my tears in your bottle. You have recorded each one in your book. Psalm 56:8 If I cried in the womb, God heard me. Each tear was accounted for in his book, His masterpiece detailing my life's story. I wonder if the entries read something like this: "July 10th, 1984. 7:49pm Washington, MO- Laelia cried six tears when she took her first breath" From the moment the cold slap of reality broke into my embryonic reverie, God collected tear after tear, placing each precious droplet in a bottle. A glass bottle? Does it list my name on the outside? I like to imagine it is made from emerald or blue sapphire with a pearl stopper. "On ____ day of 1987 Laelia shed 32 tears as she was being carried down the hallway towards the operating room. She shed 25 more upon waking up from the surgery." This book must have my name on the cover- my very own book with my very own name, with my very own sorrows carefully inscribed...

(Photo by Laelia Watt) The earth breathes deeply under its frozen covering waiting, staving off panic for the blindness the penetrating cold Solid ground and treacherous waters appear the same- all disguised by indistinguishable white. Having walked this way before, I am not deceived by the altered lay of the land. Unsettled though, and chilled Chilled in more than flesh. Chilled, and fighting the barren, lonely, silent freeze waiting as the earth longs for the first hint of Spring.

Dear upper echelon entities, This is now the fifteenth application I have submitted to your esteemed establishment. After a total of one year and one month of being a college graduate unable to procure suitable employment, I am resorting to nontraditional measures. Instead of enumerating my various skills and experiences that can be easily determined by reading my resume, and instead of wasting your time (and my sanity) by explaining with simpering posture how much I adore your institution, I am going to cut to the chase, as they say. There is no doubt that I can perform the duties of this job. Not only have I demonstrated that I have a brain by making it through elementary and high school years with straights A's, but I also graduated high school a year early. In college, I was on the Dean's list every semester in four different colleges located in two different states. This demonstrates an ability to adapt to new environments easily. I studied nursing, art, dance, Span...

The strangest thing about choosing to live in St. Louis and making decisions that will plant me in this place as my "home," is that, for the first time in my life I have found myself dreaming of the future. For the first time that I can remember since I was a child at least, I have started seeing my life in a more whole kind of way and imagining how I would like it to look. When I was little, I knew two things that I wanted to do with my life: get married and be an author. I knew these things without really having to think about it much, and even after vascilating/questioning/asking God in my 20s whether these things are dreams/goals from Him or not, they are the two things that have remained in the affirmative. I am still not sure if I want/can have children, still not sure if I will ever get a full time job or just use this time to work on my writing, still not sure if any man will ever get around to noticing me, if/when I will be able to afford my own place or have a ...

We have mice in our house. They appeared as soon as the weather turned cold. My uncle accused me of bringing them with me from Arizona. I bought some simple snap shut mousetraps. The "gluetrap" ones seem unusually cruel to me, since the mouse gets stucks and then...? Slowly starves to death? Waits until you smash it with a shovel? Poison was also recommended, but I once watched a rat die from rat poison while on vacation in Patagonia, AZ. It was the most disturbing and heartrending thing I had ever seen. The rat tried to walk, but would be violently jerked in huge waves of spasms that would sometimes fling it into the porch wall or over a bucket. Its face looked confused and contorted when the spasms hit. Finally, as it escaped, convulsing, towards an opening in the fence, the rat was seized again and his body was flung involuntarily through the opening. It would have been funny, had I not seen the rat poison box sitting near the door and realized the animal was bein...

Every New Year, since I was a young teenager, I would write a journal/diary entry summarizing the previous year in regards to what I learned from God or what happened in my life. Then I would write a separate entry looking forward to the New year, detailing what I hoped- to learn from the Lord, to work on, to do. To be sure, I am still writing these things in my journal, but last year and this year, I have been merging these entries onto this blog. 2010's summary is on the blog only, because I felt it needed to be written openly. As for 2011, I have no idea what to expect. I am almost afraid to hope for anything in particular. Why am I bothering to write this entry at all? The things I hope for are spiritual/growth, personal/relational and financial/stewardship related, but I don't even have the strength to detail them here. My heart hurts too much to even voice my longings. What if 2011 turns out as shocking as last year? It was all for the good in the end, but now I qu...

Strange that I finally come to terms with 2010 in the last few hours of the year. At the New Year's Eve service, our Associate Pastor, Greg, asked people to share what they learned in 2010. I desperately wanted to verbalize what God had done in 2010, but I didn't know how to sum it up until it was too late to share. My conclusion was this, though; "In 2010, I saw how God keeps his promises- that when he says, 'When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you. When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned; the flames will not set you ablaze.' that He is not lying and when His word says, 'Because of the LORD’s great love we are not consumed, for his compassions never fail. They are new every morning; great is your faithfulness.' I can trust God to be faithful, and that He truly loves me, because I have seen these promises kept and demonstrated in my life this...